


Late Is Better Than Never

by featherboats



Series: Weekly Challenge [1]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Feelings Development, Friendship/Love, Timeless Weekly Challenge, Week Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-12 07:42:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10485762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/featherboats/pseuds/featherboats
Summary: Prompt #1: Lucy, Wyatt and Rufus are supposed to go to a bar after a mission but Rufus cancels and Lucy and Wyatt go alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the Tumblr Weekly Challenge. Finally made myself an ao3 account, so I'm posting it here. :)

The idea comes from Wyatt after yet another fruitless mission. _Another mission_. A double operative supplying them with inside information on Rittenhouse wasn’t enough to bring their trips through time to and end after all. _The good_ : Pendleton was officially and unequivocally out of the question now. _The bad_ : everything else.

 

The mission was now Emma. _Rittenhouse_ Emma, they’d come to find out. The woman was devious— deranged; in what they could count as fewer than a dozen jumps she’d made some _drastic_ changes to History as it was known. Catching her was impossible. The trio would argue it was hopeless going after her. She’d be _long gone_ every time they arrived wherever it was the Lifeboat pinpointed she’d jumped to. Still, Denise Christopher insisted they kept trying.

 

Lucy’s met with jolts of trepidation daily because of it. Her hands shake out of fear when they look up the articles (knowing well enough they won’t find anything even remotely resembling what she learned in books, articles, and lectures). _No_. Instead, they come across all the gruesome changes brought about by Emma. It’s frustrating for the three of them to sit by idly, waiting four hours for the Lifeboat to recharge while the redhead is out and about adsorbing Rittenhouse’s vile tendrils through the fabric of time and space.

 

It’s a no-brainer as far as Lucy is concerned. The perspective of doing something “normal” for a change a very welcomed one. She says yes to the offer immediately.

 

She’s fumbling through her locker when Wyatt and Rufus gather around, a deep sigh echoing through the closed space as it escapes Wyatt’s throat. _Goddammit_. The brief had taken longer than he’d expected. New game, new rules. They would now have exceptional, segregated military briefs. Wyatt hated them.

 

“You guys ready to go?”

 

“Uh. Yeah, about that,” comes Rufus’ reserved remark. “I– I can’t make it, guys. I’m sorry.”

 

The look in their faces prompts him to further explain. “It’s Jiya,” he says. “She, well, she proposed an impromptu outing I can’t say no to.”

 

Wyatt gives him a knowing look. “You sly dog.”

 

Ironically, Rufus’ mortification increases tenfold from the last time Wyatt offered the same quip. And now he and Jiya were together. _Officially together. For the world to see._

 

Well, that was certainly off the table now. Lucy wills her dismay not to show. They smile at their friend, then their gazes meet and the flush the visual contact brings makes them look away quickly.

 

“Have fun, Rufus,” Lucy utters stoically.

 

“See you later, bro.”

 

Rufus nods at the pair, something in his expression catching their attention as he leaves. What was that? A hint at something both pretended not knowing anything about? _It was probably nothing._

 

Chances were he wouldn’t want to go with her alone. Ever since that exchange … _the one Connor Mason had so gracefully interrupted_ , she thinks, things had been different. _Good different_. Well, at least for the most part. It hadn’t broken anything in their friendship, nothing like that. In some ways, it had strengthened their bond. Wyatt would be less reckless in missions now, gravitate towards her more often, ask her how she was doing unexpectedly. He would be damned if anything happened to her on his watch … or _at all_.

 

But it was as if there were this elephant in the room that neither could address, as much as they wanted to. The words got stuck in between whenever the thought of opening up came about, and they would trail off midsentence.

 

“So,” she breaks the silence. They both shift in their feet, eye contact coming at a great sacrifice. “You want to— you want to cancel, then?” She regrets it the moment the words part from her.

 

Wyatt looks at her and Lucy wonders what is going through his mind as he takes his excruciating time to answer. “I’m there if you’re there,” he says.

 

 _There_ it is.

 

*

 

The bar is so packed the hubbub clouds even their thoughts. They’d forgotten some sort of sporting event was taking place that evening.

 

Wyatt talks to a bartender behind the counter and next thing she knows they’re sitting in a somewhat more reserved section of the establishment.

 

“What is it with people and sports?” He asks as he sits across from her.

 

Lucy shrugs, sharing the sentiment. Sports were surely not her thing. Not so much the activity itself, but the mayhem that seemed to invariably go hand-in-hand.

 

It was nice, this part of the bar. Sounds of cheers and television sets still resonated about, but at least they could hear each other’s voices.

 

Round goes in, round goes out, and Lucy notices Wyatt’s half-poured glass sitting in front of him. The same one he’d been sipping all night.

 

“That all you’re having?” She points in the general direction of the table.

 

She’s had a few by now. Not enough to make her stray from her faculties, but plenty to make her chirpy.

 

“Someone’s got to be the sober friend.”

 

“Wyatt––,” it starts as a protest, one that he promptly brushes off.

 

“Speaking of which, that all _you’re_ having?” The peanuts sit in front of her, bowl almost empty by now.

 

“It’s fine,” she says. “I’m not hungry, anyway.”

 

“You’ve got to eat something. When was the last time you’ve had a meal?”

 

Lucy stares at the far wall, brows slightly furrowed. _Well, he got his answer._

 

“Come on, let’s get you some food.” Wyatt pays the bill and both are thankful when the deafening sound is no longer, left behind closed doors and a good 20 yards’ distance.

 

“I don’t want to go to a sit-down restaurant,” Lucy objects, irritated she even _has_ to get something to eat.

 

“No need,” he counters. “We’re right outside the boardwalk. Food is what these places are all about.”

 

It’s not as awkward as they had anticipated, walking around the bright and festive streets. No actual topic of conversation is reached, but there is no uncomfortable silence either. They stop by a food truck and Lucy decides to go with their specialty, a savory delicacy everyone around her is raving about. They were not wrong.

 

“Goodness, these are amazing,” Lucy utters in almost a melodic manner. “You need to try this,” she extends her arm.

 

Wyatt grins. “I’m good. You just go ahead and finish up.”

 

She starts humming to the music that comes through the loudspeakers, a hint of jiggling that brings a smirk to Wyatt’s face. She snaps out of it before he can look too flabbergasted.

 

“Come on, Wyatt. A little bite?” She’s now shaking the contents in her hand in front of them.

 

“I’ll make sure to come back for one of these.”

 

Lucy puffs. “ _So uptight_.”

 

“Excuse me?” He fakes indignation when he’s actually amused.

 

She looks at him and what follows takes him by surprise. She bursts out laughing and for a shadow of a moment he feels his legs give in. He’d never heard her laugh before, not like this. He thinks it’s a sound he doesn’t want to say goodbye to.

 

“What?” She must have noticed him wander off.

 

“Nothing,” he’s got nothing else and hopes she doesn’t press the matter. To his relief, she doesn’t. What she does is take another bite of her food.

 

It’s nice having this Lucy— a little more carefree, somewhat less restrained.

 

Lucy feels mellow, light on her feet. It’s a beautiful night and she can almost feel like an ordinary person. _Almost._

 

“Hey, look,” she tweets, pulling at Wyatt’s arm. Her finger pointing his gaze towards an unknown direction.

 

“What am I looking at?”  

 

“Aren’t those yours?”

 

“Mine?” Wyatt isn’t sure what he’s looking at.

 

“Yeah, as in, they belong to you.”

 

Wyatt chuckles. “I know what you mean, Lucy. “What I’m saying is—, ” he’s not even sure where to start.

 

Lucy is dead serious, her eyes daring him to make a witty remark.

 

“Okay, Preston. Let’s take you home.”

 

“I’m not drunk, Wyatt,” her tone comes off as annoyed. She isn’t. “You haven’t seen me drunk. There’s a lot of singing … and dancing,” a hint of embarrassing memories goes through her face.

 

_Now that is something he would have to see._

 

*

 

The drive over to her new place is considerably longer than it would have been (had she kept her old address). It gives the alcohol plenty of time to subdue.

 

Her mother had gone off the grid after revealing she was part of Rittenhouse. Their old house, left behind. For a whole minute, Lucy considered staying there when agent Christopher came bearing the news. _We couldn’t make an arrest on your mother. And, I’m afraid she’s nowhere to be found._ It wasn’t hard deciding otherwise.

 

Wyatt pulls over as he reaches the cozy residence, puts the car in park, and turns to look at her.

 

“You feel better?”

 

“Yeah,” she feels fire on her cheeks as awareness takes over. “Thanks.”

 

She doesn’t want to walk inside, but what else is there to do? He doesn’t want her to go either.

 

“Thanks, Wyatt,” she takes long pauses, prolonging the inevitable. “This was fun,” contentment washes over her. A semblance at normalcy was something that didn’t come easy lately. Tonight was different.

 

Wyatt nods, a smile on his face. That devilish smile. “Sure thing,” he considers whether to say the next word or not, but he doesn’t have to. Both smile knowing exactly what it would be.

 

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow? Or maybe, in a few hours … or whenever.” There was no knowing when Emma would prompt a call from Denise Christopher, urging them to rush down Mason Industries.

 

“Walk you to your door?”

 

 _Yes._ “It’s only a few feet away, I think I can handle it on my own.”

 

Wyatt nods, a tad disappointed. “Good night, Lucy,” he leans towards the passenger’s seat and Lucy is at a standstill as his blue eyes grow closer. He goes for her left cheek and both would profusely deny there was any hidden agenda when they shift gears slightly to meet halfway. Lip to lip over lip to cheek.

 

The brushing alone sends quivers through Lucy’s stomach, crying out in utter need to break free. When he captures her mouth in his they are merely laying the ground, exploring, _reminiscing_. Then it starts pooling from their pores, a shared urgency that is translated in every nuzzle, every stroke, every touch.

 

They hadn’t chosen the best position for the exchange, they would learn the hard way, and when Wyatt tries breaking the wicked distance between them he slams his knee against the shift gear.

 

_Ow._

 

And the moment was ruined, Lucy thinks. Was her chagrin showing? She knows the drill, Wyatt would awkward apologize, stare at his feet, come up with some lame excuse to leave. And she would be left hanging yet again, unable to get a mere fragment of the one thing she wanted, _again_.

 

She detects the slightest hint of movement on his part, but not the one she was expecting. He’s still in her orbit, taking the hem of her jacket in his hand and slowly pulling her closer. The fireworks are unlike anything she ever experienced when her eyes close and she leaps forward, their mouths crashing together in blissful agony.

 

She has no idea what he did but the angle is much better now. They savor each other’s tastes and Lucy knows she never wants to give this up. _Kissing him_. She wants to do it all the time. She wants to do it whenever she pleases.

 

Wrapped in his own thoughts, Wyatt thinks the same. This time, he gives himself permission to fully relish the moment, her soft skin, her sweet scent. The first time, he rejoiced in delight and yearn … a little bit. All the while taking Lucy’s warmth in a voice screamed in the back of his brain trying to break through, trying to tell him he was making a mistake.

 

Now there were no voices, just a foreign longing that burned from deep within. They mirror their first kiss then, both cupping the other’s jawline. Though there’s an immediacy to it, the kiss is also paced and vulnerable. His lips are soft and luscious against hers and she wonders if it’s too forward to open up, but does it all the same. Her lips part and the swift feel of his flooding warmth engulfs her.

 

They smile through their lips and regret not being able to retain their attachment for much longer. _Oxygen and all_. _Coming up for air and all_. Wyatt chuckles inwardly, remembering the remark he made about Bonnie and Clyde once.

 

Soft pants escape their lungs as their sheepish smiles come across. It’s perfectly comfortable the way they are and it would’ve remained that way had it not hit Lucy, her eyes widening.

 

“Wait,” she snaps. “I didn’t do anything embarrassing, did I?”

 

Some parts of the evening were a bit of a haze. As far as she was concerned, they had strolled down the boardwalk, she had eaten … _and that was it, right?_ She remembered talking, but couldn’t remember dialogues or specific words. Her brain shows her images of Wyatt and an expression she can’t quite decode. What if she said something she wasn’t supposed to? _Gosh, was there something about misplaced belongings?_

 

Wyatt just smiles at her. Again, that infuriating impish smile. He doesn’t say anything, though. He just brings her hands lazily over his shoulders and kisses her again.

 

She is fine with that.


End file.
